THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


/>-( 


POEMS. 


TEAIIS  AND  SMILES 


THROUGH  THEM. 


BY  C.  N. 


"  'T  is  done  : — I  saw  it  in  my  dreams  : — 
No  more  with  hope  the  future  beams  ; 

My  days  of  happiness  ore  few  ; 
Chilled  by  misfortune's  wintry  blast, 
My  dawn  of  life  is  overcast ; 

Love,  hope,  and  joy,  alike  adieu  ; 

Would  I  could  add  remembrance  too  !" 

BYRON. 


LONDON: 

LONGMAN,  REES,  ORJIE,  BROWN,  GREEN,  &  LONGMAN  ; 

BROOKE  &  SON,   LINCOLN; 

BALL,  BRIGG  ;    STARK,   GAINSBVRGH; 

AND  ALL  BOOKSELLERS. 


PRINTED  BY  ADAM  STARK,  GAINSBURGII. 


N37i 


TO 

HIS  GRACE  THE  DUKE  OF  RUTLAND, 

THIS  HUMBLE  VOLUME 

13  INSCRIBED, 

WITH  EVERY  FEELING   Or  RESPECT 

AND  GRATITUDE, 

BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


824066 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


In  the  little  Volume  which  I  now  publish, 
many  of  the  Pieces  were  written  under  a  state 
of  great  mental  suffering,  and  were  intended  to 
alleviate  it ;  whilst  the  Publication  itself  is  un- 
dertaken at  the  solicitation  of  Friends,  under 
the  liberal  patronage  of  a  large  number  of  Sub- 
scribers, by  whom  it  will  be  made  profitable, 
and,  in  a  small  way,  reparative  of  large  pecuni- 
ary losses,  and  to  whom,  therefore,  the  Author 
respectfully  presents  her  grateful  acknowledge- 
ments and  thanks. 


C.  N. 


Hill  Collage,  Kirtou-in-Liiuhey, 
Lincoln. 


CONTENTS. 


Page. 

To  my  Harp                 ...              ...              ...  ...  1 

Belvoir  Castle               ...              ...              ...  ...  2 

My  Native  Village      ...              ...              ...  ...  4 

On  the  Death  of  my  Child           ..              ...  ...  8 

On  the  same 

On  the  Recurrence  of  my  Child's  Birth-clay  ...  11 

To  Fanny     ...              ...              ...              ...  ...  1.5 

Laceby  Brook                ...              ...              ...  ...  1  ' 

otanza          ...             ...              ...             ...  ...  lo 

To     *         *         *         *             ...              ...  ...  18 

To     *         *         *         *             ...              ...  ...  JO 

Song — "  Away,  away  !   Oh!  tell  me  not."  ...  lil 

Song — "  Oh  no  !  this  heart  can  never  jind."  ...  23 

Song— -"  Oh !  bend  no  far  d'ning  looks  on  me"  ...  '2  i- 

Song — iSOh!  there  are  griefs  thai  all  can  Jed." 


CONTENTS. 

Page. 

Song — "Oh  no!  it  cannot — must  not  be."  ...  26 

Stanza  on  revisiting  my  Home  ...              ...  ...  27 

OlUliX.1                      in                              •    •                              •••                              •••  «*,  *J\J 

To  H.  and  F.  B.          ...              ...              ...  ...  32 

Song — "  Ok  !  wipe  that  tear-drop  from  thine  eye."  ...  33 

Song — "  Ok  !  what  Is  that  purest  pledge  of  love."  ...  34 

Lines  on  Wing-field  Manor         ...              ...  ...  35 

To  a  Fallen  Leaf        ...             ...             ...  ...  37 

To  Imagination            ...              ...              ...  ...  38 

Lines  on  Life               ...              ...              ...  ...  42 

Hymn  to  the  Creator  ...             ...             ...  ...  43 

Lternity       ...              ...              ...              ...  ...  46 

To  a  Friend,  on  Recovering  from  Sickness  ...  47 

Lines  on  Envy              ...               ...               ...  ...  48 

Song — "  The  maid  whose  name  I  could  tell."  ...  49 

Inscription  for  the  Portrait  of  Capt.  Ross  ...  ...  50 

Morning       ...               ...               ...               ...  ...  52 

Song — "  Thou  bidst  me  say  why  I  'm  so  weak."  ...  53 

On  a  second  time  leaving  Burton  Cottage  ...  55 

Mary             ...               ...               ...               ...  ...  56 

Lines  on  the  Yarborough  Mausoleum         ...  ...  58 

On  revisiting  the  Crave  of  my  Son            ...  ...  6 1 

Winter          ...              ...              ...              ...  ...  64 

Spring           ...              ...              ...              ...  ...  C6 

Song— "  I '11  think  of  tkee."       ...             ...  ...  67 

Song — "  0!  cleave  more  closely  to  my  breast."          ...  CO 

Remorse,  a  Fragment ...             ...             ...  ...  70 


CONTENTS. 


Page- 
Song — "  Oh  yes  !  upon  thy  brow  I  see."    ...  ...  74 

Song — "  Oh  !  is  there  not  on  ocean's  waste."  ...  75 

Song — "  I  care  not  for  beauty."                  ...  ...  77 

Song — "  Oh  !  smile  not  upon  me."             ...  ...  78 

Song — "  I  own  the  gay  lark  is  the  blithest  bird."  ...  79 

Song — "  I  fear  I  am  in  love."    ...             ...  ...  81 

.Lucy              ...               ...                ...               ...  ...  83 

Earl  Bertram                ...              ...              ...  ...  85 

To  the  Trent                ...              ...              ...  ...  93 


TO  MY  HARP. 

Oh  !  who  sliall  list  to  thy  lorn  minstrelsy, 
And  not  to  pity's  sway  his  heart  resign, 
Or  feel  the  tear-drop  trembling  in  his  eve, 
And  heed  not  how  in  streams  they  gush'd 
from  mine. 
Loos'd  are  thy  chords,  but  ah  !  though  reft  and 
broken, 
Struck  by  my  hand,  they'll  charm  some  grief 
away, 
And  give,  perchance,  like  Memnon's  lute,  the 
token 
That   heaven's  own    beam   hath    woke   thy 
simple  lay. 

B 


2  POEMS. 

Then  come,  and  as  the  slave  afar  on  ocean, 
Breathing  sweet  airs  from  Araby  the  blest, 

Wakes  to  new  life,  and  hopes  with  fond  emotion 
To  greet  once  more  his  sylvan  home  of  rest ; 

So  to  my  stricken  heart  thy  strains  be  given, — 
So  cheer'd  my  path  on  earth  by  airs  from 
Leaven. 


TO  BELVOIR  CASTLE. 

Thou  proudest  of  old  England's  princely  halls, 
That,  like  a  spirit  guardian  o'er  the  land. 
Dost  sit  in  state  upon  thy  mountain  throne, 
And  overaw'st  the  wondering  sight  afar, 
I  hail  thee,  symbol  of  our  fathers'  thoughts ! 
Thoughts,  ever  lofty  and  majestical ; 
But,  like  thee,  not  uplifted  in  the  cause 
Of  brooding  tyranny,  but  simply  raised 


- 

s 


.X 


\ 


X 


\ 


-\ 


>N 


POEMS.  3 

In  their  own  native  stature,  to  protect 

The  rights  of  human  kind.    And  that  high  race 

Of  patriot  peers,  who  rear'd  thy  ramparts,  still 

Shall  freedom  name,  even  'mid  the  demon  shout 

Of  lawless  anarchy,  now  pealing  o'er 

My  country's  plains,  and  in  her  crowded  streets. 

— The  bulwark  of  our  land!  God  and  the  right 

Defend  ye !  and  assist  ye  to  defend 

The  timid  flock,  ye  noble  shepherds ! 

Long, 
O  goodly  Bel  voir  !  may  thy  spacious  roof 
Possess  its  high-born  lord  ;    long  may  those 

flowers, 
The  lovely  offspring  of  their  parent  stock, 
Flourish  within  thy  shade,  and  live  to  shed 
Their  fragrance  far  and  wide  ! 


„0. 


B  2 


4  POEMS* 


MY  NATIVE  VILLAGE. 


Dear  native  village,  now  again 
I  view  thee  from  this  oft  trod  plain, 
Where,  mounted  on  my  donkey  steed, 
I  rode,  a  happy  child  indeed. 

With  Sally  walking  by  my  side, 
A  gentle,  kind,  good-natur'd  guide, 
The  pillion  seemed  the  favour'd  seat 
Where  every  pleasure  gathering  met. 

The  warbling  birds,  the  cooling  breeze, 
The  shining  flowers,  the  shady  trees, 
But  chief,  the  thought  from  tasks  set  free* 
That  spring  of  infant  liberty. 


POEMS.  5 

My  childish  heart  with  joy  beguiled, 
"While  every  passing  stranger  smiled, 
And  every  neighbour  passing  by 
Implored  for  me  some  gift  from  high. 

But  now,  alas  !  how  changed  the  place  ! 
I  scarcely  meet  a  well-known  face  ; 
The  very  ground  appears  estranged, 
As  I,  and  all  that  live  are  changed. 

I  cannot  stay  the  bursting  sigh, 
While  picturing  days  too  soon  gone  by: 
My  kindred  too,  of  centuries  past, 
Who  in  this  village  breathed  their  last ; 

The  grave  stones  in  the  church-yard  tell 
How  many  bade  to  earth  farewell ; 
And,  whilst  their  frames  to  dust  are  given, 
Their  souls,  I  trust,  repose  in  heaven. 

Land  of  my  sires,  farewell !  farewell ! 
'X  is  a  sad  talc  for  me  to  tell ; 

B  3 


6  POEMS. 

The  hearth,  round  which  so  oft  1  sat,. 
Resounds  no  more  with  friendly  chat. 

No  lively  voices  greet  mine  ear, 
Nor  forms,  long  loved,  are  met  with  here, 
Whose  kind  endearments,  even  now, 
Bring  smiles  across  my  sorrowing  brow. 

No  more  the  widow'd  heart  shall  know 
From  them  a  lightening  balm  for  woe, 
Nor  e'er  from  them  the  orphan's  sigh 
Be  soothed  by  one  of  sympathy. 

Pardon  a  moment,  if  I  dwell 

On  by-gone  days  I  loved  so  well ; 

From  trouble  I  w  as  free  as  air, 

Nor  dream'd  that  its  approach  was  near. 

But  young,  and  fair,  and  gentle  too, 
A  portion  must  ye  have  of  woe ; 
Although  the  youthful  age  be  blest, 
Y  ou'll  have  your  share  before  ye  rest. 


POEMS. 

Adieu  !  adieu  !  loved  village  dear, 
One  parting  look,  one  parting  tear ; 
Adieu  to  every  shrub  and  tree! 
I  feel  regret  to  part  from  thee. 

Adieu  to  every  spot  of  earth, 

And  the  loved  cot  which  gave  me  birth  ; — 

Another  look, — and  now  we  part 

To  live  for  ever  in  my  heart. 

Each  object  from  mine  eye  now  fades ; 
ri  he  spire  is  lost  amid  the  shades ; 
The  pealing  bells  die  on  mine  ear; — 
Village  and  all  now  disappear. 

To  seek  another  rest  I  haste, 
Till  my  few  earthly  days  be  past ; 
O  may  I  reach,  when  death  may  come, 
A  surer  rest,  a  better  home ! 


8  roEius. 


OX  THE  DEATH  OF  MY  CHILD. 


From  me  has  fled  my  greatest  joy, 
JMy  own,  my  loved,  my  darling  boy  ; 
With  none  to  share  my  heart's  distress, 
I  now  must  tread  this  wilderness. 

Thy  smiles,  my  dear  departed  one, 
Upon  my  sorrows  sweetly  shone, 
And  chased  away  the  shades  of  grief, 
And  gave  my  burthen'd  heart  relief. 

A  treasure  great  thou  went  to  me, 
But  I  was  doomed  to  bury  thee ; 
And  deeply  now  my  sorrow  flows, — 
Yet  would  I  not  its  sweetness  lose : 


POEMS. 

So  dear  this  sorrow  is  for  thee, 

Such  tenderness  it  leaves  in  me, 

I  would  not  change  my  tears  for  peace, 

Lest  yearning  love  for  thee  should  cease. 


ON  THE  SAxME. 


When  the  last  kiss  I  gave  to  thee, 

My  soul  was  filled  with  agony ; 

Thy  marhle  lips  I  fondly  prest, 

And  would  have  clasp'd  thee  to  my  breast. 

I  thought  not  of  thy  bliss  above, 
I  thought  alone  of  grief  and  love  ; 
I  felt  a  sorrow  none  can  tell, 
To  part  with  one  I  loved  so  well. 


10  poems. 

O  memory  !  how  keen  thou  art ! 
Be  still,  be  still !  my  throbbing  heart ; 
For  once  let  recollection  die, 
And  me  forget  my  misery. 

Severely  chastened  have  I  been, 

Yet  own  the  visitation  keen 

From  my  great  Father's  hand  was  due  ;— 

"  Righteous  Thou  art,  O  Lord,  and  true !" 

Let  now  my  stubborn  heart  confess, 
Nor  longer  yield  to  this  distress ; 
My  God  hath  called  my  infant  home, 
And  saved  him  from  the  ills  to  come. 

Then,  selfish  heart,  thy  grief  restrain  ! 
Let  gratitude  alone  remain, 
That  from  this  world,  the  spirit  fled, 
To  heaven,  its  happy  home,  hath  sped. 


POEMS.  11 


ON  THE  RECURRENCE 
OF  MY  CHILD'S  BIRTH-DAY. 


Thou  hadst  been  five  years  old  to-day, 
Had  God  thy  sojourn  here  allow'd  ; 

Since  't  is  not  so,  O  let  me  pray, 
To  him  my  erring  will  be  bovv'd. 

A  little  man,  on  new-year's  day, 

With  pleasure  I  transformed  thee  to, 

In  blue  surtout,  so  new  and  gay, 

Cloth  trowsers  long,  and  jet  black  shoe. 

Thy  collar  white  as  driven  snow, 
Surrounded  by  a  plaited  frill, 


12  POEMS. 

Hung  o'er  thy  little  shoulder  low, — 
So  well  thou  look'dst,  I  see  thee  still. 

Thy  pretty  cane,  so  prized  by  thee, 
Thy  little  fingers,  grasping  fast, 

WhiiTd  swiftly  round,  that  all  might  see 
How  strong  it  was,  how  well  't  would  last. 

I  hear  thee  call,  in  childish  glee, 
As  glancing  o'er  thy  new  attire, 

"  O  come,  mamma,  and  look  at  me, — 
Don't  vou  indeed  mv  dress  admire  ?" 

Who,  that  has  felt  a  mother's  pride, 

Will  not  a  sharer  be  in  mine  ? 
But  joys  are  fleeting  as  the  tide, 

Thev  flow  their  hour,  and  then  decline. 

0  angel  child !   hadst  thou  been  spared, 
So  much  I  saw  in  thy  young  mind, 

1  fondly  hoped  thou  wouldst  have  shared 
Each  grief,  each  joy,  that  I  might  find. 


POEMS.  13 

'T  is  done, — but,  ah,  't  is  bliss  to  know 
Thy  Spirit  's  pass'd  its  heavenly  birth, 

Untried,  when  here,  by  mortal  woe, 
And  pure  from  all  the  stains  of  earth. 


TO  FANNY. 

Welcome,   dear  sister,   to  thy  own  "sweet 

Lome!" 
For  ever  stranger  be  thy  heart  to  gloom ! 
May  peace  surround  thee  in  thy  new  retreat, 
And  render  home,  what  home  should  be,  most 

sweet ; 
Around  thy  hearth  may  social  virtues  grow, 
And  each  dear  inmate  love  and  kindness  show  ; 
Domestic  comfort  makes  each  blessing  great ; 
Then  may  this  blessing,  sister,  on  thee  wait. 


14  POEMS. 


LACEBY  BROOK. 


Adieu  !  sweet  Laceby  Brook,  adieu  ! 

To  me  thy  banks  are  dear, 
Though  they  in  memory  but  renew 

The  griefs  I  suffered  there  ; 
.From  thee  I  now  depart,  to  bear 

The  fate  yon  wreath  must  have, 
Which  some  rude  hand  has  gather'd  here, 

And  flung  upon  thy  wave ; 
For  soon  its  flowers  shall  fade,  and  be 
With  ruthless  speed  borne  down  by  thee, 

Where  ocean's  surges  roar, 
And  there,  mid  sea- weed  wreck,  at  last 
A  scar'd  and  scentless  thing,  be  cast 
To  die  upon  its  shore. 


POEMS.  10 

While  now  I  gaze  upon  thy  stream, 

And  list  its  murrn'ring  flow, 
Methinks  to  misery's  child  they  seem, 

As  types  of  weal  and  woe. 
With  me  life's  early  course  was  bright, 

While  led  by  friendship's  hand, 
Till  love  usurped  the  dearer  right 

To  guide  it  to  its  end ; 
When  ah  !  as  now  yon  insect  tribe, 
Disporting  happy  on  thy  side, 

My  hopes  were  briefly  blest, 
Then  perished,  as  the  insect  throng 
At  dewy  eve  shall  do  ere  long, 
And  sink  upon  thy  breast. 

But  not  alone  young  hope  expired, 

As  insect  life  on  thee, 
For  sorrow,  with  a  hand  untired, 

Still  holds  its  grasp  on  me ; 
For,  like  the  bubbles  on  thy  wave, 

My  joys  dissolve  in  air, 


C  2 


16  POEMS. 

Whilst,  as  the  weeds  thy  waters  lave, 

Is  rooted  my  despair. 
And,  as  thy  stream  still  onward  flows, 
So  speeds  the  current  of  my  woes, 
More  whelming  than  before, 
And  still  will  speed,  until  1  come 
To  that  secure  and  better  home, 

Where  life's  long  labour  's  o'er. 


STANZA. 

When  first  thy  garden  latch  I  raised, 
With  transport  on  thy  face  I  gazed ; 
Thy  ardent  step  and  temper'd  joy 
Became  thee  well,  thou  rosy  boy. 

Methinks  I  still  that  welcome  hear, 
When  you  besought  my  entrance  there  ; 


POEMS.  17 

And  see,  my  proffer'd  guide  to  be, 
Thy  infant  hand  upheld  to  me. 

And  hastening  on,  you  led  the  way, 
To  where  thy  drooping  mother  lay  ; 
Whose  wasted  form  and  sunken  eye 
Proclaim'd  that  death  was  hovering  nigh. 

O  who  shall  tell  the  fruitless  art 
To  calm  the  throbs  that  burst  the  heart, 
Or  soothe  thy  pangs,  dear  child.,  that  day 
A  stifFen'd  corse  thv  mother  lay. 

In  vain  I  took  thee  to  my  care, 
With  all  a  mother's  fondness  there  ; 
Thou  droop'dst,  as  droops  the  morning  flower, 
On  beauty's  brow,  at  midnight  hour. 

And  vain  my  hope  to  find  in  thee, 
What  my  lost  child  was  once  to  me  ; 
Like  him,  thy  beauty's  dawning  bloom 
Was  early  gathei'd  to  the  tomb. 

C  3 


18  poems. 


TO 


Thus  eaily  severed  though  we  be, 
I  e'er  shall  fondly  think  of  thee  : 
In  sorrow  owns  my  woe-worn  heart 
The  pangs  it  cost  me  then  to  part. 

In  other  climes,  Oh !  may'st  thou  find 
The  love  which  thou  hast  left  behind  ; 
Though  none  can  e'er  more  constant  be, 
Than  mine  has  ever  proved  to  thee. 

Ah  \  could  that  love  that  once  was  mine 
Again  on  earth  our  hearts  entwine, 
Bereavements,  grief,  all,  all  would  fade, 
And  I  once  more  be  happy  made. 


POEMS,  19 


TO 


'T  is  clone, — th'  unhallow'd  task  is  o'er, — 
We  've  parted  now  to  meet  no  more ; 
Henceforth  on  life's  lone  path  I  go, 
With  hand  unlink'd  and  heart  of  woe. 

And  now  shall  ne'er  that  heart  of  thine 
Reprove  the  throbs  it  caused  in  mine, 
Nor  ever  more  be  shared  by  thee 
That  home  of  griefs  you  form'd  for  me. 

Nor  shall  again  to  thee  be  given, 

To  scorn  those  vows  you  swore  to  heaven  ; 

Or  heap  on  me  one  anguish  more, 

To  bruise  the  heart  you  broke  before. 


20  roEAis. 

Ah  !  would  you  own,  or  might  I  say, 
How  true  that  heart  you  've  thrown  away, 
How  pure  and  bright  its  fondness  shone, 
Still  lingering  long  when  yours  was  gone. 

You  well  could  speak  with  what  excess 
Of  love's  entire  devotedness, 
I  strove  in  all,  through  good  or  ill, 
To  learn  your  wish  and  work  your  will. 

Not  time's  decay,  nor  friendships  crost, 
Nor  wealth  of  mine  in  reveling  lost, 
Could  e'er  have  wcan'd  my  heart  from  thee, 
Had  thine  been  kind  and  true  to  me. 

Eut  ah !  't  was  mine  through  years  to  feel 
Those  wrongs  no  balm  of  earth  could  heal,— 
To  lose  the  sufferer's  respite,  sleep, 
Whence  roused  by  fear,  I  woke  to  weep. 

In  solitude  I  sought  relief 

For  buried  joys  and  love  too  brief; 


POEMS.  21 

As  hearts  bereaved  to  shades  repair, 
To  mourn  the  dead  reposing  there. 

In  vain,  a  mother,  I  relied 
To  win  that  heart  I  lost,  a  bride ; 
But  slighted  was  our  child  by  thee, 
For  that  pure  love  it  bore  to  me. 

That  child — but  ah  !  I  can  no  more, — 
With  him  my  hopes,  my  all,  were  o'er ; 
He  came  on  seraph's  wing  of  love, — 
Embraced, — then  rose  to  realms  above. 

And  never,  never  's  miss'd  the  prayer, 
That,  dying,  you  may  meet  him  there ; 
When,  bow'd  thv  rebel  front  to  heaven, 
You  've  gain'd  its  grace  and  been  forgiven. 


22  POEMS. 


SONG. 


Away,— away, — Oh  !  tell  me  not 
That  love  is  light  and  best  forgot, 
That  mortal  hopes  are  wisely  crost, 
And  heaven  best  won  when  earth  is  lost. 

Oh  !  there  are  hopes  I  would  not  have, 
And  joys  of  earth  I  would  not  crave, 
For  that  one  bliss,  which  few  can  find, 
Of  heart  with  heart,  and  mind  with  mind. 

The  lark  is  gay  in  heaven's  blue  sky, 
When  soars  her  mate  to  meet  on  high ; 
But  ah  !  the  bliss  she  craves  as  best 
Is  found  at  eve  within  her  nest. 


POEMS.  23 


SONG. 


Oh  no!  this  heart  can  never  find 

One  pause  from  bliss  when  yours  is  kind, 

Or  feel  the  task  of  love  as  long, 

For  labour  's  light  when  love  is  strong. 

1  cannot  give,  as  coldly  due, 
That  love  this  hand  once  pledged  to  you ; 
For  what  can  love  e'er  leave  undone, 
When  hearts  are  pure  and  bound  in  one  ? 

Oil  no !  these  eye-lids  ne'er  can  close, 
When  yours  in  vain  shall  seek  repose, 
Nor  throb  this  heart  with  yours  at  rest, 
For  heaven  's  in  mine  when  yours  is  blest, 


24  POEMS. 


SONG. 


Oh  !   bend  no  pard'ning  looks  on  me, 
For  J  've  been  false,  too  false,  to  thee, 
Nor  e'er  thy  dying  prayer  be  given 
For  guilt  that  ne'er  can  be  forgiven. 

For  I,  too  cruel,  sought  thy  bower, 
To  sear  its  bud  and  stain  its  flower ; 
Whilst,  ah  !  that  fatal  wound  you  bear 
Was  caused  by  thorns  I  planted  there. 

Then  grant  no  pard'ning  looks  of  love, 
For  they  to  fiercer  grief  shall  move  ; 
Since  that  too  gentle  breast  of  thine 
But  fans  the  flame  consuming  mine. 


POEMS.  25 


JONG. 


Oh  J  there  are  griefs  that  all  must  feel, 
Which  few  can  bear,  and  none  conceal ; 
"When  hopes  arc  built  on  loves  that  fade, 
And  hearts  are  won,  and  then  betray'd. 

If  friendship  \s  false,  't  is  but  a  name 
Of  doubtful  truth  and  selfish  aim  ; 
Or  death  divides  young  hearts  in  twain, 
They'll  meet,  and  never  part  again. 

But  ah  !  what  balm  's  in  Gilead  there, 
To  soothe  the  pangs  of  love's  despair, 
When,  like  the  fabled  spear  of  yore. 
The  hand  must  heal  that  stabb'd  before. 


26  poems 


SONG. 


Oh  no  !  it  cannot — must  not  be ; — 
That  hand  of  thine  's  not  doom'd  for  me ; 
For  ill  a  bride  would  suit  that  soul, 
Of  humble  mien  and  russet  stole. 

I  own  indeed,  dear  youth,  that  you 

Will  scorn  that  wealth  which  knaves  pursue  ; 

But,  ah !  in  courts,  I  sigh  to  know, 

The  heart  but  serves  the  pageant's  show. 

Then  leave,  ah !  leave  the  courtier's  art, 
To  learn  that  love  which  warms  the  heart  ; 
And,  ah !  to  some  lone  vale  repair, 
To  live  in  blest  communion  there. 


POEMS.  27 


STANZA, 

ON  REVISITING  MY  HOME. 


I  come,  to  that  dear  spot  I  come, 
So  long  with  thee  and  thine  my  horn?, 
Ere  yet  I  left  thy  guardian  side, 
With  heart  unschool'd,  and  life  untried. 

Not  few  the  years,  since  that  sad  day, 
With  loitering  pace  have  past  away ; 
Nor  few  the  days  of  them  have  flown, 
In  which  some  sorrow  I  've  not  known. 

'T  was  mine  in  early  youth  to  share 
Such  bliss  as  few  may  hope  for  here ; 


£8  POEMS. 

When  cull'd  those  flowers  which  life  beguiled, 
To  strew  the  paths  that  cross'd  its  wild. 

But  soon  were  o'er  these  dreams  of  bliss, 
Where  heav'n's  pure  world  seem'd  form'd  in  this, 
And  gone  that  beam  of  wisdom's  light, 
Which  lit  my  steps  and  led  them  right. 

My  hopes  were  bright,  yet  they  but  fed 
Those  floods  of  grief  which  soon  were  shed ; 
Like  clouds  at  even-tide  which  form, 
And  loveliest  seem  where  broods  the  storm. 

'T  was  then  that  voice,  once  whispering  love, 
Was  rarely  heard  but  to  reprove, 
And,  where  there  used  but  smiles  to  be, 
Wras  worn  an  endless  frown  for  me. 

But,  ah !  what  boots  it  to  be  shown 
How  dear  that  heart  I  deem'd  my  own, 
Or  what  was  then  my  mute  despair, 
When  first  I  found  no  truth  was  there. 


POEMS.  29 

Oil !  none  but  angel  tongues  could  tell 
How  throbb'd  my  heart  when  broke  that  spell 
Of  love,  which  seem'd  enchain'd  as  fast 
As  truth  might  trust,  and  life  could  last. 

But  ah  !  enough — With  bosom  riven, 
Without  one  stay,  save  trust  in  heaven, 
To  thee  and  that  dear  spot  I  come, 
So  long  with  thee  and  thine  my  home. 

For  oh  i  if  peace  once  more  be  mine, 
'T  will  be  within  that  home  of  thine, 
Where,  if  for  ever  to  be  blest, 
My  life  would  seek  its  final  rest. 


D  s 


30  POEMS, 


STANZAS. 


Oh  !  never  shall  thy  last  farewell, 
Though  't  is  for  ever,  break  the  spell, 

Which  binds  my  heart  to  thee  ; 
For  I  have  ever  own'd  its  power, 
Since  first  T  drcam'd,  in  passion's  hour. 

That  thine  was  true  to  me ; 
For  pure,  beyond  the  sembler's  art, 
I  paid  the  homage  of  my  heart 

In  vows  of  love  to  thee. 

Though  ocean's  tide  between  us  roll, 
I  feel  thy  magic  charm's  controul 
A  bliss  supreme  impart, 


POEMS.  31 

Whilst,  heedless  of  forebodings  vain, 
I  dcem'd  thy  love  would  still  remain, 

As  when  we  last  did  part ; 
For  strong  as  is  the  magnet's  force 
And  true  to  guide  the  pilot's  course, 

I  fondly  thought  thy  heart. 

Nor  could  the  chain  my  stay  prolong 
In  friendship's  band,  or  beauty's  throng, 

Where  one  more  loved  might  be ; 
Nor  did  the  sordid  strife  for  gain, 
Nor  glory's  higher  mead,  detain 

My  ardent  steps  from  thee; 
For,  wheresoe'er  thy  let  was  cast, 
My  thoughts  still  travell'd  to  the  past, 

When  thou  wert  true  to  me. 

But,  ah  !  if  I  am  doom'd  to  prove 
The  pangs  of  unrequited  love, 

At  least,  Oh  !  let  me  claim, 
That,  as  my  heart  must  hold  thee  dear, 
That  heart  may  find  its  solace  there, 


32  POEMS. 

Though  under  friendship's  name  ; 
For,  breathed  when  may  be  my  last  sigh, 
And  be  what  may  thy  destiny, 

That  heart  shall  love  the  same. 


TO  H.  and  F.  B. 


M  Y  Sisters !  't  is  to  you  I  owe 
That  help  I  've  had  to  bear  my  woe ; 
For  you  were  ever  kindly  nigh, 
To  wipe  the  tear  and  calm  the  sigh. 

TSTor  could  the  scenes  of  death  and  fear 
Deter  your  steps  from  hastening  there ; 
For  when  most  gulph'd  in  misery's  sea, 
You  search'd  its  depths  to  rescue  me. 


POEMS.  33 


SONG. 
"  Oh !  wipe  that  tear-drop  from  thine  eye? 

Oh  !  wipe  that  tear-drop  from  thine  eye, 
Calm,  calm  that  throbbing  breast ; 

On  man's  stern  bosom  waste  no  sigh, 

For  his  is  cold  as  snows  that  lie 
Round  Etna's  burning  crest. 

Oil  !  hence,  for  ever,  hence  depart, — 

That  treacherous  bosom  fly, 
Where,  won  by  man's  alluring  art, 
Confiding  woman  lays  her  heart, 

And  then  is  left  to  die. 


34  POEMS. 


SONG. 
"  Oh  !  what  is  that  purest  pledge  of  love." 

Oh  !  what  is  that  purest  pledge  of  love, 
Which  I  have  not  given  to  thee? 

Or  what  is  the  word  that  love  to  prove, 
Which  has  not  been  breathed  by  me  ? 

Or  what  is  the  choicest  the  heart  can  hold, 

My  eye  has  not  utter'd,  or  sigh  not  told  ? 

Shall  love,  pure  love,  with  its  soul  of  flame, 

Awaken  no  rapture  in  me, 
Or,  passionless,  proffer  but  friendship's  name, 

For  my  boundless  devotion  to  thee  ? 
Or  must  I  be  dead  to  its  seraph  lyre, 
When  it  lights  up  my  heart  with  its  song  of  fire. 


toems.  35 


LINES  ON   WINFIELD  MANOR, 

ONE  OF  THE  PRISONS  OF  THE 
UNFORTUNATE  MARY,  QUEEN  OF   SCOTS. 


In  mournful  silence  stands  the  ruin'd  tower, 
Where  injured  Mary  spent  the  lonely  hour  ; 
These  walls,  attracting  every  passer  by, 
Once  echo'd  to  that  high-born  woman's  sigh. 
Who  o'er  these  desolated  halls  can  stray, 
Which  beauty  graced,  now  scath'd  by  time's 

decay, — 
Who  can  stroll  round  these  ivy-crowned  walls, 
Where  every  fragment  thy  sad  fate  recalls, — 


36  POEMS. 

And,  whilst  the  steps  once  trod  by  thee  they 

tread, 
Not  think  what  hopeless  tears  by  thee  were  shed, 
Or  stifle  feelings  of  indignant  grief, 
That  thou,  beneath  a  summer's  sun  so  brief, 
Should'st  flourish,  lovely  flower !  and  then  the 

blast 
Of  bleak  misfortune,  withering,  should  cast 
Thy  blossom  in  the  dust? 

O  roval  state, 
How  perilous  !     Far  happier  is  the  fate 
Of  that  poor  slave,  from  whom  the  stinted  soil 
Exacts  the  tribute  of  perpetual  toil ! 


POEMS.  37 


TO  A  FALLEN  LEAF. 


Poou  blighted  tiling,  by  every  tempest  driven 
So  ruthlessly  !  companion  of  the  mire, 
Despised,  and  trampled  underfoot  of  men, 
How  changed  thy  station !     But  a  month  hath 

flown, 
Since  thou  wert  gaily  hanging  on  thy  bough, 
Surrounded  with  thy  kindred  green  and  fair, 
Fed  with  the  nectar'd  dew  at  mom  and  eve, 
The  sun  upon  thee  smiling  pleasantly, 
And  every  light  breeze  staying  in  its  flight 
To  kiss  thy  glossy  surface.     Oh  !  how  like 
To  many  a  child  of  man  !   caress'd,  adored, 
Envied,  assail'd,  o'crthrown, — then  left  to  die. 


E 


38  POEMS. 


TO  IMAGINATION. 


Bewitching  Power!  although  so  dangerous 
Thy  spells  be  clcem'd  by  sages,  sternly  proud 
In  their  own  wisdom,  't  is  to  thee  I  owe 
Of  this  life's  chalice  far  the  sweetest  draught. 

Come,  boundless  spirit !   reigning  o'er  the  past 
The  present,  and  the  future,  compassing 
The  distant  and  profound,  envelope  me 
Within  thy  wizard  mantle,  and  unseal 
My  eyes  of  clay,  that  I  may  view,  as  thou, 
Etherial  shapes,  the  minions  of  thy  wand ! 

Hail,  reverend  patriarchs,  and  holy  seers  ! 
Appearing  and  existing,  past  a  dream, 


POEMS.  39 

Before  mine  eye  ;  your  venerable  forms 
Descending  from  some  mountain,  on  whose  ton 
Your  altar  raising,  ye  have  sacrificed 
The  firstlings  of  your  flock.     God  hath  been 

there, 
And  on  your  faces  still  His  glory  beams. 
That  holy  impress  of  the  Deity, 
Your  children,  waiting  at  the  mountain's  foot, 
Behold,  and  all  in  meek  obeisance  bow. 

Far  other  honours,  paid  to  human  kind, 

I  see  in  mystic  vision.     Faith  and  truth 

Are  vanish'd.     Cities  vast,  and  pompous  thrones 

Of  gold  and  gems  appear,  and  on  them  raised 

Monarchs  of  wide  dominion,  from  their  slaves 

Receiving  prayers  and  praises,  while  disease 

Consumes  the  idol  and  his  worshipper ; 

Yet  slaves  successive  come  to  bend  and  kneel 

Before  succeeding  idols. 

Pyramids, 
And  thousand-column'd  temples,  now  arrest 

E  2 


40  POEMS. 

My  gaze, — the  thrones  of  science,  and  the  holds 
Of  vermin-gods.     From  lands  of  luxury 
And  wealth,  possess'd  by  abjects  darkly  vain 
Of  their  deep  degradation,  bear  me,  Spirit ! 
And  let  me  walk,  entranced  in  ecstasy, 
Along  thy  mountain  paths,  and  by  thy  streams, 
O  Judali !  listening  to  the  echo  sweet 
Of  harp  and  viol,  mingled  with  the  voice 
Of  thy  rapt  prophets,  or  thy  maidens  fair. 

Nor  thou,  heroic  Hellas !  be  forgot ; — 
Assist  me,  Spirit,  to  conceive  that  world 
Of  human  greatness !  rear  once  more  in  thought 
Her  matchless  temples  !  bid  her  statues  live  ! 
And,  while  the  sun  looks  on  in  joy,  recall 
Her  sons  and  daughters  from  the  grave,  to  fill 
My  ravish'd  ear  with  wisdom  and  with  song! 

Nor  be  imperial  Rome  unvisited! 
They  come, — her  eagled  legions  !  on  they  sweep 
In  sullen  greatness,  while  their  foes,  dispell'd, 
Seem  chaff  before  the  tempest !    Hie  me  hence 


POEMS.  41 

To  the  eternal  city  !     Hark  !  I  hear 
The  mighty  shout  of  nations,  wemb*d  within 
Her  walls;   the  circus  and  the  forum  start 
As  by  an  earthquake,  to  my  eye  and  ear, 
And  tell  a  moment  of  their  kindred  strife. 

The  scene,  but  not  the  station,  now  is  changed  ; 
The  men  of  valour  disappear,  or  crouch 
Beneath  the  dreaded  frown  of  mitred  pride  ; — 
The  yoice  of  eloquence  and  conquest  dies  ; 
The  gorgeous  mass,  the  Virgin's  choral  chant, 
Swell  through  the  vaulted  aisle  magnificent, 
To  splendid  superstition  consecrate; 

Yet  on  again  the  nations  rush  to  arms;    . 
The   prelate   lifts   the  cross,  and  knights  and 

peers 
In  cavalcade  innumcrous  crowd,  and  shout, 
"  To  Palestine  !"  and  on  that  hallow'd  soil 
Fanatic  blood  is  nour'd  in  vain,  where  once 
Was  shed  the  blood  all-savinjj. 


E  3 


42  POEMS. 

But  a  cry 
31  ore  shrill  is  pealing;  't  is  the  martyr's  prayer 
.And  prophecy,  ascending  from  the  flame 
To  listening  heaven,  that  truth's  irradiate  torch, 

Now  kindled,  never  shall  again  be  quench'd. 

******** 


LIFE. 

Yon  silken  cobweb,  spread  for  others'  bane, 
The  breath  of  zephyr  breaks,  and  renders  vain  ; 
Such  is,  alas,  in  wisdom's  eye  this  life, 
Its  state  is  weakness,  and  its  aim  is  strife. 


FOE  us.  43 


HYMN  TO  THE  CREATOR. 

O  Thou,  enthroned  in  majesty  sublime ! 
Who  ever  livest  in  thine  immortal  clime, 
How  shall  my  soul  to  hymn  thy  praise  begin, 
Clothed  as  1  am  with  selfishness  and  sin  ? 
'Twas  thine  almighty  word  said  "  Let  light  be !" 
The  angel-listen'd  fiat  of  the  Deity. 

'T  was  thou  who  bad'st  this  earth  from  nothing 

move, 
\nd  in  her  wondrous  orbit  circling  rove ; 
T  was  thou  who  call'dst  the  restless  ocean  forth, 
And  gavest  the  lamps  of  heaven  their  splendid 

birth  ; 
And,  through  all  time  thy  hand  is  visible, 
Asserting  thy  own  right,  and  working  thy  own 
will. 


44 


POEMS. 


'T  was  thou  who  maclcst  the  deep  blue  sea  retire, 
When  Israel's  host  escaped  Egyptian  ire ; 
And  at  thy  voice  old  Jordan's  swelling  stream 
Was  parted, — hasting  at  thy  law  supreme  : 
'  r  was  thou  who  bad'st  the  earth  revolving  stay, 
While,  to  the  eyes  of  men.,  stood  still  the  lord 
of  day. 

And  still  thou  beamest  in  the  golden  sun. 
And  from  thee  shines  the  ever-changing  moon  ; 
Thou  art  where  crimson  streaks  adorn  the  west, 
And  the  soft  morning  opes  her  dewy  vest; 
Where  murmurs  on  the  vale's  meandering  rill 
And   living  lutes   with  praise   the   rocks   and 
echoes  fill. 

Thou  art  where  gleaming  lightnings  fright  the 

shore, 
And  lowering  storms  destructive  torrents  pour  ; 
Where  surging  seas  in  awful  conflict  rise, 
And,  foaming,  claim   their   kindred  with  the 

skies ; 


POEMS.  45 

Where  peals  on  bursting  peals  successive  roll, 
And  awful  thoughts  of  thee  enwrap  the  ravish'd 
soul. 

These  are  thy  dwellings,  Ever-blessed  One ! 
Thy  doings  these,  thou  glorious  Lord !  alone ; 
In  thine  own  works  thou  art ;  but  chiefly  where 
The  weakest  of  thy  creatures  needs  thy  care ; 
Dust  as  I  am,  thine  ever  watchful  eye 
I  know  is  near,  and  'neath  it  walk  confidingly. 


46  roEMS. 


ETERNITY. 


Eteunity  !  thou  boundless,  infinite 

Abyss !  ocean,  defying  measurement ! 

In  which  this  world  at  last  shall  whelm,  and  on 

Thy  billows'  breast  scarce  leave  a  circling  trace ; 

Dwelling  divine  of  Immortality 

Thou  art,  and  none  beside  can  tenant  thee. 

Who  then  rules  monarch  of  eternity? 

He  who  alone  coeval  was  with  thee ; — 

Stay, — He  ne'er  was ;  'tis  time  alone  succeeds, 

But  thou,  O  God !  continuest  still  the  same. 


POEMS.  47 


TO  A  YOUNG  FRIEND 


RECOVERING  FROM  SICKNESS. 


How  fair  the  rose,  which  breathes  its  fragrance 

near 
My  little  window's  light,  and  fills  the  air 
With  scents  more  grateful  than  the  rich  per- 
fumes 
Of  Araby  !  yet  have  I  seen  the  frost 
Seize  on  its  young  compeers,  and  blight  their 

bloom, 
Sadly  foretelling  they  must  die.     How  much 
Like  health,  that  scarce  hath  blown  upon  the 

cheek, 
Ere  wan  disease  may  mar  the  radiant  flower, 


48  POEMS. 

And  blanch  its  crimson  glow.     How  ought  we 

then 
To  live,  if  such  the  pillar  of  the  soul — ■ 
The  stem  that  props  humanity  in  life  ! 
Each  moment  hurries  us  to  death,  prepared 
Or  not.     Then  why  so  thoughtless,  so  unwise, 
To  risk  an  ever-during  bliss,  for  joys 
So  frail  as  those  this  transient  life  can  boast  ? 
If  man  would  rightly  act  as  health  puts  forth 
Her  tender  bud,  the  earth,  to  paradise 
Restored,  might  blossom  with  perpetual  spring. 


ENVY. 

Why  envy  me  my  humble  lot, 
My  peaceful  home  and  lowly  cot  ? 
Whate'er  enjoyments  may  be  mine. 
I  never  envied  thee  for  thine. 


POEMS.  49 

Alas,  alas !  I  own  this  truth, 
Foul  envy  hover'd  near  my  youth  ; 
And,  now  that  trusting  age  is  flown, 
I  'm  fearing  still  her  withering  frown. 

Fiend  of  disunion  I  snake  of  hell ! 
What  power  thy  lurid  look  can  quell? 
May  guardian  angels  near  me  be, 
Or  thy  foul  glance  will  wither  me  ! 


SONG. 
"  The  maid  whose  name  I  could  tell." 

The  flowers  are  fair  in  garden  and  grove. 
And  I  love  them  passing  well ; 

But  I  view  not  a  flower  so  fair,  while  I  rove, 
As  the  maid  whose  name  I  could  tell. 


50  POEMS. 

The  flowers  are  sweet  on  hill  and  in  vale, 
And  I  love  on  their  sweets  to  dwell ; 

ISut  there  breathes  not  a  perfume  so  sweet  on 
the  gale, 
As  the  maid  whose  name  I  could  tell. 


INSCRIPTION 

FOR  THE  PORTRAIT  OF  CAPT.  ROSS. 

Header,  behold  that  gallant  chief,  whose  fame 
Has  raised  the  glory  of  our  country's  name ; 
Though  not  that  glory,  which,  'mid  realms  afar, 
The  warrior  captain  gains  in  savage  war, 
Where,  reckless  of  all  else  but  war's  emprize, 
His  fame  is  built  on  widows'  agonies. 


POEMS.  51 

No ! — his  it  was,  as  led  by  science  forth, 
To  seek  her  stores  where  frowns  the  frozen  north, 
And,  'mid  dread  icebergs  of  resistless  force, 
Urge   his  bold   way,  and   steer  his  venturous 

course ; 
And,  when   by  frost   enchain'd,  his   was  that 

power 
Of  soul  which,  equal  to  the  trying  hour, 
With  heart  to  succour,  and  with  hand  to  save, 
Rises  o'er  all,  the  bravest  of  the  brave, 


F  2 


521  poems. 


MORNING. 

The  morning  wakes, — how  fair !  how  beautiful! 
How  peerless  looks  her  lord,  while  moving  up 
The  avenue  of  clouds,  and  dealing  life 
To  all  around !     Yet  flows  her  glossy  hair 
In  tresses  wild  adown  her  glowing  neck, 
And  seems  to  hide  the  first-born  love  of  light, 
Before  she  gives  all  nature  joyous  birth  ; 
While   smiles  as  sweet  her   blushing  cheeks 

adorn, 
As  when  the  youth  reads  love  in  eyes  askance, 
That  tenant,  in   his  thoughts,  'neath   angel- 
brows. 

In  amorous  mood  her  rosy  fingers  curl 

Her  lover's  golden  locks,  and  weave  a  wreath 


POEMS.  53 


Of  amber  hue  to  grace  his  radiant  head, 
As  first  he  greets  her  with  a  sweet  embrace. 

Again  she  trips  in  gay  delight  o'er  all 
The  new-born  earth.     Ere  long  she  faints  ; 
And  now  her  waning  cheek  no  longer  bears 
The  seal  of  health,  but  pale  and  paler  grows, 
Till  with  a  farewell  glance  she  bids  adieu ! 
Then  vanishes  away,  'mid  noon-tide  glare 
And  splendour  lost. 


SONG. 

Thou  bidst  me  say  why  I  'm  so  weak, 
To  let  the  tears  roll  down  my  check ; 
'T  is  thy  neglect  and  cold  disdain, 
Which  give  my  heart  this  hourly  pain. 

F    3 


54  POEMS. 

How  fondly  did  I  list  to  thee, 
When  vows  of  love  thou  madest  to  me ! 
And  breathless  hoped  thou  wouldst  repeat 
Those  vows,  till  bliss  were  mine  complete. 

Warm  I  believed  thee,  and  sincere, 
True  every  word  which  met  mine  ear ; 
Thy  absence  was  as  death  to  me, 
While  life  and  bliss  return'd  with  thee. 


toems.  55 


ON  A  SECOND  TIME  LEAVING 
BURTON  COTTAGE. 

Since  last  I  left  my  favourite  cot, 

How  changed,  how  sadly  changed,  my  lot! 

My  darling  boy  was  then  my  guide, 

And  prattled  gaily  at  my  side ; 

We  walk'd  from  hence  a  happy  pair, 

For  he  was  all  my  joy,  my  care. 

Since  then,  fell  death  has  laid  him  low ; 

And  now,  a  mourner,  hence  I  go, 

From  every  earthly  solace  riven, — 

From  every  stay,  save  hope  and  heaven. 


56  POEMS. 


MARY. 


As  lowly  Mary  pass'd  me  by, 

From  her  escaped  a  deep-drawn  sigh  ; 

<•  Poor  maid !"  I  said,  "  What  grief  hast  thou, 

Which  throws  such  gloom  o'er  thy  young  brow?'* 

"  My  mother  's  dead,"  she  weeping  said, 
"  My  father  by  her  side  is  laid ; 
To  wander  through  this  world  alone, 
From  our  loved  cot  I  've  mourning  gone. 

"  A  stranger  now  hath  seized  my  home, 
And  it  must  be  my  hard,  hard  doom 
To  wander  on  and  beg  my  bread, 
In  sorrow,  till  I  join  the  dead." 


POEMS.  57 

Yet  little  thought  I,  while  she  spoke, 
Those  words  so  ominously  broke 
Upon  mine  ear,  or  that  the  sigh 
She  gave  foreboded  death  was  nigh. 

The  maiden's  misery  check'd  her  tale, 
Her  tears  fell  fast,  her  cheek  grew  pale, 
And  soon  she  sunk  beneath  her  woe, 
And  closed  her  weeping  course  below. 


58  toems. 


LINKS  ON  THE 
YARBOROUGH  MAUSOLEUM. 

Softly  embosom'd  'mid  luxuriant  shades, 
Yon  stately  pile  the  cheerful  heart  invades 

With  momentary  gloom ; 
For,  ah  !  like  all  of  fair  man  witnesseth, 
The  palace  hides  the  tenantry  of  death, 

Its  beauty  veils  a  tomb  ; — 
And  hark !  that  monitory  voice,  "  Not  here 
Is  mansion  raised  for  living  thane  or  peer, — 

It  is  his  last  long  home." 

Yet  pause  and  ponder,  as  thou  passest  by, 
And  take  relief,  frail  heir  of  misery, 
Beneath  thy  load  of  woe  ; 


© 


'J. 
7- 


POEMS.  59 

Here  rest  the  ashes  of  the  good  and  great, 
Though  large  their  fortunes,  yet  they  loved  not 
state, 

Nor  lived  for  pomp  or  show  ; 
This  noble  dome  was  raised  to  grace  the  dead, 
Who,  living,  dried  the  tears  which  misery  shed, 

And  now  repose  below. 

The  blessings  had  they  of  the  country  round, 
They  sought  the  helpless,  and  the  wretched 
found, 

Intent  mankind  to  bless ; 
Though  solemn  then  the  tomb,  yet  gather  thou 
A  lesson,  which  may  brighten  thy  sad  brow, 

When  misery's  pangs  distress ; 
Though  here  no  mirth,  yet  thou  rich  thoughts 

may'st  glean, 
On  which,  in  future  sorrows,  thou  may'st  lean, 

To  make  those  sorrows  less. 

Enter  beneath  the  marble  columns'  shade, 
And  let  the  honours  by  affection  paid 


60  poemS. 

Thy  breast  with  pleasure  fill ; 
The  magic  which  the  chisell'd  art  hath  wrought, 
The  wondering   eye  from  distant  parts   hath 
brought, — 

Such  is  the  sculptor's  skill ; 
Itoses  and  shamrocks  beautifully  blend, 
As  if  some  beauteous  lesson  they  would  lend, 

Of  moral  good  and  ill. 

But  when  enclosed  within  the  graceful  pile, 
The  vaulted  roof,  the  fluted  pillars'  style, 

Upraise  and  fill  the  mind  ; 
And   painting's  hand   combines   the  feast   to 

crown, 
Of  gathering  seraphs,  who  from  high  look  down, 

To  soothe  and  cheer  our  kind. 
Blest  memory !   -  f    n  to  this  sacred  spot 
Transl "'  at,  my  miseries  forgot, 

I  may  find. 


POEMS.  61 


ON  REVISITING 
THE  GRAVE  OF  MY  SON. 

'T  is  past, — the  mournful  duty  's  paid, — - 

I  've  wept  where  low  my  child  is  laid, 

And  bathed  witli  tears  the  turf  that  's  spread 

With  flowering  verdure  o'er  his  head ; 

And  there  I  've  left  him  to  his  sleep, 

To  wake  no  more  to  hear  me  weep, 

Or  feel  the  throbs  which  heave  my  breast, 

To  shake  his  frame,  and  break  his  rest. 

Dear  child !  methinks  I  still  can  sec 
Thy  looks  of  love  when  tuni'd  on  me, 
Thy  first  sweet  smile,  that  seem'd  to  break, 
As  heaven's  own  light,  from  out  thy  cheek, 

G 


C2 


TOEMS. 


Ere  yet  began  thy  hapless  fate 
With  jeys  tco  few  and  brief  a  date, — 
Or  e'er  was  blanch'd  thv  check  with  fear, 
And  griefs  not  thine  were  planted  there. 

Oh !  never  can  from  memory  fly 
Thy  looks  of  love  which  met  my  eye, 
Or  be  forgot  thy  hand,  when  prest 
To  cling  more  fondly  to  my  breast, 
Or  thy  sweet  voice,  whose  lisping  tone 
Essay'd  to  make  thy  fondness  known, 
With  all  thv  silent  grief  to  see 
Such  varied  woes  engulphiiig  me. 


( )li !  these  were  pledges  form'd  to  please, 
If  aught  on  earth  could  bring  me  ease, 
And  promised,  in  ray  heart's  distress, 
To  share  its  pangs  to  make  them  less, 
That  you  through  distant  years  would  he 
A  solace  for  the  past  to  me, — 
My  prop  in  age,  in  youth  my  pride, — 
My  son,  companion,  guard  and  guide. 


POEMS.  63 

But  ah  !  thou  'rt  gone ; — yet  though  thou  be 
Dear  as  thou  wert  that  hour  to  me, 
When  first  above  thy  cradled  head 
I  hung,  while  tears  of  joy  were  shed, 
Or  last,  when  near  thy  early  bier 
In  speechless  grief  I  mourn'd  thee  there  ; 
— Lov'd  though  thou  art,  't  is  not  to  life 
I  'd  wish  thee  back,  to  brave  its  strife, 
For  oh !  thy  race  is  haply  done, 
Its  goal  is  reach'd,  and  purpose  won, 
And  I  but  wait  to  gain  that  shore, 
Where  we  may  meet  and  part  no  more. 


a  2 


64  POEMS, 


WINTER. 

Monarch  of  clouds   and  storms!    the  north 

wind  comes, 
Thy  bugled  herald,  at  whose  rending  blast 
Brown  autumn's  faded  children  strew  the  earth 
And  choke  the  gurgling  rills.     And  hoar-frost 

now, 
The  fairest  of  thy  van,  bespeaks  thee  near  ; 
The  white  enchantress  lifts  aloft  her  wand, 
And  every  naked  shrub  and  tree,  as  if 
By  fairy  bands,  are  hung  with  silver  blossoms, 
A  graceful  avenue  her  savage  lord 
Contemns. 

Earth  trembles  'neath  thy  chariot  wheels ! 
And,  at  thy  nod,  great  alchymist  of  nature  ! 


poems.  65 

The  floods  are  solid  o'er ;  and  on  thou  sweep'st 
Across  their  barriers,  over  hills  and  vales, 
And  rushest  to  thy  ocean  revelry ; 
Ten  thousand  voices  swell  thy  merriment ; 
The  hollow  wind  moans  in  the  rocky  caves, 
And  helps  the  screaming  gull  to  mock  the  groans 
And  cries  of  drowning  mariners, — the  whale, 
Caught  in  the  whelming  vortex,  spouting  high, 
And,  furious,  smites  the  wave  with  his  broad 

fin, — 
The  crash  of  meeting  icebergs  frights  the  fowl, 
In  crowded  troops,  from   off  their  mountain 

peaks, 
With  clamorous  terror, — while  the  shaggy  bear 
Growls  anger,  and  the  walrus  snorts  loud  mirth 
Amid  the  maddening  war  of  winds  and  waters  ! 


e  3 


66  poems. 


SPRING. 


Speed  thee,  chaste  virgin  of  the  pea-bud  cheek 
And  violet  eye,  from  Winter's  rude  embrace  ! 
Swiftness  and  strength  be  with  thy  agile  limbs, 
Till,  far  escaped,  thou  meet  the  youthful  sun, 
Thy  ardent  lover  !  neither  turn  away 
So  bashfully  thy  look,  nor  shun  his  smile ; 
Cast  from  thy  neck  thy  mantle  of  gray  mists, 
And,  robed  in  the  light  fleeces  of  the  sky, 
Go  forth  to  meet  him .'  while  attendant  hours 
Entwine  fresh  garlands  of  the  primrose  pale, 
Hare-bells,  and  lady-buds,  and  hawthorn  flowers, 
Young   silken   beech   leaves,   and   the   cowslip 

sweet, 
To  deck  thy  modest  brow.     The  wakeful  lark 


toems.  67 

Shall  tireless  tend  thy  steps, — the  woodlands 


ring 


With  joyous  music  as  thou  passest  on, — 
The  vesper  nightingale  and  matin  thrush, 
Alternate,  peal  their  thrilling  melody, — 
The  cuckoo  shout  at  noon  ahove  the  hum 
Of  gladsome  hees, — yea,  every  voice  of  joy 
The  chorus  swell,  while  every  hill  and  vale, 
Delighted,  listens  to  thy  bridal  song. 


SONG. 
"I  HI  think  of  thee." 

O  yes  !  I  hold  thee  in  my  heart, 
Nor  shall  thy  cherish'd  form  depart 
From  its  loved  home ;  though  sad  I  be, 

I  '11  think  of  thee. 


68  POEMS. 

My  dawn  of  life  is  dimm'cl  and  dark  ; 
Hope's  flame  is  dwindled  to  a  spark  ; 
But,  though  I  live  thus  dyingly, 

I  '11  think  of  thee. 

Though  short  my  summer's  day  hath  been, 
And  now  the  winter's  eve  is  keen, 
Yet,  while  the  storm  descends  on  me, 

I  '11  think  of  thee. 

No  look  of  love  upon  me  beams, 
No  tear  of  pity  for  me  streams ; 
To  this  lone  thought  I  sadly  flee, — 

I  '11  think  of  thee. 

Thine  eye  would  pity,  wert  thou  near 
To  know  my  woe ;  but,  though  1  here 
Expire  in  lonely  misery, 

I  '11  think  of  thee. 


POEMS.  69 


SONG. 


"  Oh  !  cleave  more  closely  to  my  breast." 

Oh  !  cleave  more  closely  to  my  breast, 
And  I  will  closer  cleave  to  thine ; 

Thy  bosom  is  my  sweetest  rest, 
Oh !  rest  thy  weary  head  on  mine. 

Let  storms  around  us  rudely  beat, 
And  on  us  pour  the  withering  blast ; 

If  we  the  storm  together  meet, 
'T  will  sweeter  be,  when  over-past. 

Let  hopes  decline  and  foes  betray, 

And  friends  with  fortune's  smiles  depart ; 


70  POEMS. 

The  light  of  love  shall  guide  our  way, 
And  shed  its  radiance  o'er  the  heart. 

Then  cleave  more  closely  to  my  hreast, 
And  I  will  closer  cleave  to  thine ; 

Thy  hosom  is  my  sweetest  rest, 
Oh  !  be  thy  sweetest  rest  on  mine. 


REMORSE, 

A  FRAGMENT. 

Is  that  my  love  ?   so  shrunk,  so  changed,  so 

fallen ! 
Is  't  possible  ?  gay,  young,  and  beautiful, 
When  first  I  wooed  her;  ah!  how  sadly  changed ! 
And  I  the  cause !      Oh  !  conscience,  thou  hast 

slept 


POEMS.  71 

Too  long,  and  't  would  be  cruelty  to  rouse 
Thee  now.     Can  I  no  service  render  her? 
Dare  I  approach  such  injured  excellence? 
List!  even  now  she  prays,  "  Him  I  forgive!" 
Oh  list !  again  those  sounds  salute  mine  ear, 
Like  a  reprieve  to  criminals  condemn'd. 
Couldst  thou,  O  precious  one !  but  see  my  heart 
So  torn  and  agonised,  thy  angel-tongue 
Would  quickly  speak  sweet  pardon  in  mine  ear; 
But  now,  too  pure,  too  sacred  thou  appear'st 
For  one  so  deeply  stain'd  as  I  to  hold 
Communion  with. 

Thy  parting  soul  will  soon, 
Too  soon,  alas !  for  him  whose  tortured  mind 
Implores  thy  life,  join  the  blest  throng  above. 
O  purest,  loveliest,  but  most  injured  woman ! 
Even  all  the  bitterness  of  that  sad  cup, 
So  often  drain'd  by  thy  meek  lips,  and  still 
Keplenish'd  yet  more  bitterly,  and  drunk 
Again  more  meekly  still, — not  all  its  gall 
Could  equal  this  one  deepen'd  draught  of  mine. 


72  POEMS. 

Yet  all,  and  more  a  thousand-fold,  my  crime 
Deserves.    Let  me  recount  my  guilt  to  heaven. 
I  told  thee  how  devoutly  I  adored  thee ; 
I  wooed  and  won  thee, — then  deserted  thee ; 
Breathing  upon  thy  lips,  as  thou  wert  lock'd 
Within  my  arms,  a  vow  of  constancy ; 
Then  didst  thou  sink  in  sweet  confiding  fondness 
On  my  false  breast,  and  own  thy  love  for  me. 
Wretch  that  I  am  !  O  viper,  most  malign 
And  vile,  to  sting  thy  constant,  tender  heart! 
E'en  now,  my  name  pronounced  emotion  brings 
Convulsive  to  thy  dying  brow.     And  yet, 
All  angel  as  thou  art,  how  have  I  thrown 
Thee  from  me, — cast  thee  forth  to  cruel  grief 
And  blighting  scorn,  who  join'd  their  ruffian 

hands 
To  wring  the  roses  from  thv  cheek,  and  drain 
The  life-blood  from  thy  heart !     Beauty,  and 

sense, 
And  modesty  were  thine,  in  all  their  charms  ; 
Thy  very  look  unbarr'd  the  sternest  breast ; 
Thy  fascinations  in  the  world's  gay  scene 


POEMS.  73 

First  made  me  feel  thy  power.    To  call  one  mine 
So  famed  for  beauty  and  for  mind,  seem'd  worth 
A  struggle ;  with  what  triumph  have  I  seen 
All  who  approach'd  thee  greeted  with  a  look 
Of  bare  politeness,  while  thine  eye  on  me 
Sparkled  delight,  as  diamonds  to  the  sun, 
Then  melted  into  soften'd  tenderness, 
And  confidence,  and  love.     Surely  my  heart 
Was  never  form'd  for  right  affection,  else 
From  thee  it  ne'er  had  stray'd ;    yet,  from  thy- 
self, 
Thou  soul  angelical !    I  turn'd  away  ; — - 
Thy  gentle  nature  could  not  brook  disdain, — 
Each  wound  I  gave  thee  has  too  deeply  sunk  ; 
I  never  meant  to  play  the  villain's  part 
So  well.     O  God  !  receive  her  to  thyself, 
And  let  me  live  a  life  of  agony, 

If  that  may  expiate  my  crimes ! 

*  *  *  *  * 


H 


74  POEMS. 


SONG. 


"  Oh  yes !  upon  thy  broiv  I  see.'" 


Oh  yes  !  upon  thy  brow  I  see 

All  that  thy  heart  would  tell ; — 
Go  then, — with  hand  unlink'd  and  free 
As  is  thy  heart,  and  give  to  me 
Thy  long  and  last  farewell. 

Yes — go,  and  seek  'mid  scenes  afar 

The  love  thy  heart  denies, 
Go  seek  it  where  thy  truant  star 
Shall  lead,  and  where  the  strife  of  war 

May  crown  thee  with  its  prize. 


TOEMS.  lij 

Time  was,  when  I  in  fondness  deem'd 

All  true  that  heart  of  thine, 
And  vainly  hoped,  for  thus  it  seem'd, 
And  thus  my  youthful  passion  dream'd, 

'T  would  ne'er  be  false  to  mine. 

But  thine  was  that  deceitful  power, 

Which  wins  but  to  betray, 
That  trims  at  morn  the  spicy  bower, 
To  sear  at  eve  its  stem  and  flower, 

And  fling  its  fruit  away. 


SONG. 

"  Oh !  is  there  not  on  ocean's  ivaste. 

Oh  !  is  there  not  on  ocean's  waste 
Some  spot  where  man  's  not  come, 

H  2 


76  POEMS. 

\  \  here  his  dominion  hath  not  cast 
A  blight  upon  its  home  ? 

For  I  'm  aweary  of  this  scene, 

Where  every  ill  is  rife, 
And  man  with  brother  man  is  seen 
To  wnge  an  endless  strife. 

For  ah  !  to  that  lone  spot  I  'd  fly, 

Whose  covert,  calm  and  blest, 
Should  yield  a  home  where  I  may  die,— - 
A  grave  where  I  may  rest. 
For  I  'm  aweary  of  this  scene, 

Where  every  ill  is  rife, 
And  man  with  brother  man  is  seen 
To  wage  an  endless  strife. 


toems.  77 


SONG. 
"  /  care  not  for  beauty? 

I  care  not  for  beauty,  I  care  not  for  riches, 
I  am  not  the  slave  whom  their  tinsel  bewitches ; 
A  bosom  I  seek, 

That  will  beat  with  my  own, 
Though  pale  be  the  cheek, 
And  its  roses  all  flown, 
And  the  wearer  be  desolate,  wretched,  forlorn, 
And  alike  from  each  refuge  and  solace  be  torn. 

To  the  heart  I  would  cleave,  which  is  striken 

and  slighted, 
Whose  joys  are  all  fled,  and  whose  hopes  arc 

all  blighted ; 

ii  5 


78  toems. 

For  that  heart  alone 

Would  in  sympathy  thrill 
With  one  like  my  own, 

Which  dejection  doth  fill ; — 
With  a  heart  whose  fond  breathings  have  ever 

been  spurn'd, 
And   hath   long    their   rejection    in    solitude 
mourn'd. 


SONG. 
"  Oh  !  smile  not  iqwn  me." 

On  !  smile  not  upon  me, — my  heart  is  not 
smiling ; 

Too  long  it  hath  sunk  'neath  reproach  and  re- 
viling ; 


POEMS.  79 


If  all  faces  were  smiles  and  were  bending  to 
bless  me, 

They  would  not  relieve,  but  more  deeply  dis- 
tress me. 

The  harp  of  my  heart  is  unstrung,  and  to  glad- 
ness 

Respond  not  its  chords,  but  to  sorrow  and  sad- 
ness ; 

Then  speak  not  of  mirth,  which  my  soul  hath 
forsaken  ; — 

Oh!  why  should  my  heart  to  its  sorrows  awaken? 


« 


SONG. 
I  own  the  gay  lark  is  the  blithest  bird." 


I  own  the  gay  lark  is  the  blithest  bird 
That  welcomes  the  purple  dawn ; 


80  POEMS. 

But  a  sweeter  chorister  far  is  heard, 
When  evening's  veil  is  drawn. 

When  the  last  lone  traveller  homeward  wends 

O'er  the  moor-land  drowsily, 
And  the  pale  bright  moon  her  crescent  bends, 

And  silvers  the  eastern  sky, — 

And  in  silence  the  wakeful  starry  crowd 

Their  vigils  begin  to  keep, 
And  the  hovering  mists  the  flowerets  shroud, 

And  their  buds  in  dew-drops  weep. 

Oh  !  then  shall  the  nightingale's  warbling  wild, 

In  the  depth  of  the  forest  dark, 
Prove  sweeter  by  far  to  sorrow's  child, 

Than  the  song  of  the  cheerful  lark. 


poems.  81 


SONG. 


"  I  fear  I  am  in  love" 


Along  the  meads  a  simple  maid 
One  summer's  day  a-musing  stray 'd, 
And,  as  the  cowslips  sweet  she  press'd,  * 
This  burthen  to  the  breeze  confess'd, — 

1  fear  I  am  in  love. 

For,  ever  since  so  playfully 
Young  Robert  trod  this  path  with  me, 
I  always  feel  more  happy  here, 
Than  ever  I  have  felt  elsewhere ; — 

I  fear  I  am  in  love. 


82  POEMS. 

And  ever  since  young  Robert  talk'd 
So  sweetly,  while  alone  we  walk'd, 
Of  truth,  and  faith,  and  constancy, 
I  've  wish'd  he  always  were  with  me ; — 

I  fear  I  am  in  love. 

And  ever  since  that  pleasing  night, 
When,  'neath  the  silver  moon's  fair  light, 
He  ask'd  my  hand,  but  ask'd  in  vain, 
I  've  wish'd  he  'd  walk  and  ask  again  ; — 

I  fear  I  am  in  love. 

And  yet  I  greatly  fear,  alas ! 
My  wish  will  ne'er  be  brought  to  pass  ; 
What  else  to  fear  I  cannot  tell, 
But  this  I  fear,  and  fear  too  well, 

That  I  am  now  in  love. 


poems.  83 


TO  LUCY. 


What  meant  that  glancing  of  thine  eye, 
That  softly  hush'd  the  struggling  sigh  ? 
Hast  thou  a  thought  of  woe  or  weal, 
Which,  breathed,  my  bosom  would  not  feel  ? 
Why  shouldst  thou  then  that  thought  con- 
ceal, 
Or  hide  it  from  my  mind,  Lucy  ? 

Didst  thou  e'er  breathe  a  sigh  to  me, 

And  I  not  breathe  as  deep  to  thee  ? 

Or  hast  thou  whisper'd  in  mine  ear 

A  thought  of  sorrow  or  of  fear, — 

Or  have  I  seen  thee  shed  a  tear,—- 

And  look'd  a  thought  unkind,  Lucy. 


84  POEMS. 

Did  e'er  a  gleam  of  love's  sweet  ray 
Across  thy  beaming  countenance  play, — 
Or  joy  its  seriousness  beguile, 
And  o'er  it  cast  a  radiant  smile, — 
And  mine  with  kindred  joy,  the  while, 
Not  glow  as  bright  as  thine,  Lucy  ? 

Why  wouldst  thou,  then,  that  something  seek 
To  hide  within  thy  breast, — nor  speak 

Its  load  of  doubt,  of  grief,  or  fear, 

Of  joy,  or  sorrow,  to  mine  ear? 

Assured  this  heart  would  gladly  bear 
A  burthen  borne  by  thine,  Lucy ! 


POEMS.  85 


EARL  BERTRAM. 

Earl  Bertram  has  gather'd  a  gallant  band, 
And  he  will  away  to  the  Holy  Land, 
And  his  lady's  heart  is  sinking  in  sorrow, 
For  he  and  his  lances  depart  on  the  morrow, 

"  O  wherefore,  my  noble  Bertram,  tell 

In  lonely  grief  am  I  left  to  dwell, 

When  only  three  short  bridal-moons  have  fled  ?' 

His  lovely  lady  weeping  said. 

Earl  Bertram  kiss'd  her  pale,  pale  check, 

And  strove  with  manly  pride, 
While  an  answer  of  love  he  essay'd  to  speak, 

His  flooding  tears  to  hide. 


86'  POEMS. 

But  a  thought  his  yielding  bosom  cross'd, 
That  flash'd  on  his  brain  like  an  unlaid  ghost, 
And  anger  rose  in  his  rolling  eye, 
While  his  lady  look'd  on  him  tremblingly. 

Yet  he  answer'd  her  not  in  wrathful  haste, 
But  press'd  her  loved  form  to  his  glowing  breast, 
And  in  words  of  tender  yet  stately  dress, 
Thus  strove  to  banish  his  love's  distress. 

"  Count     Hubert    is    bound    with    Philip    of 

France, — 
Count  Hubert, — who  challenged  thy  Bertram's 

lance, 
And  made  him  the  scoff  of  the  burgher  swine, 
While  he   render'd  his   vows  at  the  Virgin's 

shrine. 

"  O  ask  me  not,  love,  to  tarry  in  shame, 
Lest  '  craven'  be  added  to  Bertram's  name ! 
To  Palestine  hastens  my  mortal  foe, 
And  I  with  our  *  Lion's- Heart'  will  go. 


POEMS.  87 

"  Nay,  Gertrude,  repeat  not  thy  Borrowing  tale, 
Behold  in  my  casque  the  scallop-shell ! 
And  see,  on  my  shoulder  the  holy  rood, 
The  pledge  of  my  emprize,  bedyed  in  blood. 

"  Thou  wouldst  not,  love,  I  should  be  forsworn, 
Nor  the  stain  on  my  honour  be  tamely  borne ; 
Do  thou  to  the  saints  each  passing  day 
For  Bertram  and  royal  Richard  pray. 

"And  the  Virgin  shall  shield  us,  while  all  for 

her  Son 
We  hie  to  the  rescue ; — and  soon  shall  be  won 
By  the  skill  of  this  arm,  and  the  strength  of 

my  steed, 
For  thy  Bertram,  beloved,  the  conqueror's  meed. 

**  Thou  shalt  not  long  for  thy  Bertram  mourn, 

Before  he  will  swift  to  his  Gertrude  return  ; 

When,  deaf  to  the  lure  of  the  red  cross  arms, 

He  will  yield  up  his  heart   to   thy  beauty's 

charms." 

i  1 


S3  POEMS. 

The  morn  in  the  purple  east  arose, — 
The  foremost  of  all  Earl  Bertram  goes ; 
And  brief  his  adieu,  as  he  mounted  his  steed, 
And  swifter  his  course  than  the  falcon's  speed. 

And  the  sea  he  hath  cross'd  to  Palestine, 
And  there  at  heart  he  doth  chafe  and  pine, 
For  Hubert,  his  foe,  is  not  in  that  land, — 
King  Philip  is  back  to  France  with  his  band. 

But  Bertram  will  never  a  recreant  turn, 
While  the  knightly  badge  on  his  shoulders  is 

borne ; 
And  long,  beneath  the  Syrian  sun, 
He  fasted,  and  fought,  and  glory  won. 

His  lady,  alas !  for  her  loved  lord  pines; 
And,   though    on    her   castle    the  bright    sun 

shines, 
She  sees  not  its  light,  but  in  loneliness  prays, 
Through  the  livelong  hours  of  her  sorrowing 

days. 


POEMS.  89 

Twelve  moons  have  roll'd  round,  and  the  morn- 
ing is  come, 

When  a  twelvemonth  before,  from  his  lordly 
home 

Earl  Bertram  went ; — at  the  castle  gate 

A  reverend  palmer  now  doth  wait. 

He  saith  he  hath  words  for  the  lady's  ear, 
And  he  tells,  in  accents  dark  and  drear, 
Of  Bertram's  death  in  the  Holv  Land 
At  Richard's  side,  by  a  Saracen's  hand. 

And  he  gave  to  the  lady,  when  thus  he  had 

spoken, 
Of  Bertram's  fall  a  deathly  token  ; 
'T  was  a  lock  of  his  hair  all  stain'd  with  blood, 
Entwined  on  a  splinter  of  holy  rood. 

Then  the  palmer  in  haste  from  the  castle  sped, 

And  Gertrude  is  left  to  bewail  the  dead  ; 

And  each  weary  night  and  gloomy  day 

In  deeper  lamentings  now  pass  away. 

i  3 


90  POEMS. 

Three  months   have   pass'd, — and  again  doth 

wait 
That  palmer  before  the  castle  gate ; 
But  of  haste,  or  of  death,  he  talks  not  now, 
Nor  doth  sadness  or  sorrow  bedim  his  brow. 

He  softly  sits  by  the  lady's  side, 
And  tells  of  deeds  of  knightly  pride, 
And  speaks,  in  her  secret  ear,  of  things 
Which  deeply  endanger  the  thrones  of  kings. 

For  from  Philip  of  France,  he  saith,  he  came, 
To  treat  with  a  prince  he  must  not  name ; 
And  he  in  fair  France  hath  goodly  lands, 
Where  a  thousand  brave  vassals  obey  his  com- 
mands. 

The  lady  liked  her  gallant  guest, 

For  he  guess'd,  as  a  courtier,  what  pleased  her 

best; 
And  his  tongue,  in  silken  measures  skill'd, 
With  goodly  stories  her  memory  fill'd. 


POEMS.  91 

-And  daily  he  Gertrude's  ear  beguiles, 
And  soon  is  her  sadness  betray'd  by  smiles; 
And,  when  from  the  castle  the  palmer  went, 
She  watch'd  his  return  from  the  battlement. 

The  sun  hath  roll'd  round, — and  the  eve  is  re- 
turn'd 

When,  two  twelvemonths  before,  she  forebod- 
ingly mourn \\ ; 

But  the  lady's  heart  now  sinks  not  in  sorrow, 

For  she  and  the  palmer  will  wed,  on  the  mor- 
row. 

The  morrow  is  come, — and  at  break  of  dav, 
'Fore  the  altar,  the  abbot,  in  holy  array, 
Is  joining  the  palmer's  and  Gertrude's  hands, 
But  in  sudden  amazement  the  holy  man  stands ! 

For,  before  the  castle,  a  trumpet's  blast 
Sounds  so  loud,  that  the  palmer  starts  aghast ; 
And,  quickly  disrobed,  shows  a  shirt  of  mail, 
With  a  falchion,  to  make  the  stoutest  quail. 


92  POEMS. 

The  doors  of  the  chapel  were  open  thrown, 
And  the  colour'd  light  of  the  windows  shone 
On    the   face    of   Earl    Bertram    with    anger 

flush'd, 
And  forth  on  the  palmer  he  wildly  rush'd. 

"  Villain,  Hubert !"  he  cried,  and  his  knightly 

sword 
Was  sheathed   in   the  heart   of  the   recreant 

lord  !— 
With  a  scream  of  terror  Gertrude  fell, 
For  she  knew  the  pride  of  Bertram  well. 

He  flew  to  raise  her — but  flew  in  vain, — 
Her  spirit  its  flight  in  fear  had  ta'en  ! — 
And  Bertram  kneels  that  his  soul  be  shriven, 
And  the  sins  of  this  deed  by  grace  forgiven. 

And  now  has  Sir  Bertram  resign'd  his  lands 
For  Gertrude's  repose  into  holy  hands ; 

And,  in  sooth,  it  were  sweet  though  sad  to 
tell, 


POEMS.  93 

How  duly,  at  eve  and  matin's  dawn, 
The  ave-marias  he  counted  alone, 
Or  the  midnight  prayer  and  stifled  moan, 
Which  rose  from  his  sainted  cell. 


TO  THE  TRENT. 

0  Trent  !  I  love  thy  rolling  silver  stream, 
In  early  years  thou  wok'st  my  heart  to  know 
That  grandeur  dwells  in  nature ;  ocean's  flood 

1  view  not,  nor  have  heard  its  solemn  roar, 
But  thrilling  feel  that  thou  art  majesty. 
Thy  osier-crowned  banks,  and  margin  wide 
Of  flowery  meads  and  pastures  green, — the  hills 
And  woods  which  look  upon  thee,  are  a  hook 


94  POEMS. 

Wherein  my  heart  is  writ,  and  where  I  read 
Most  livingly  the  hopes  and  joys  of  youth, — 
Yea  seem,  indeed,  to  breathe  them  o'er  again. 
The  lonely  tower  that  rears  its  frowning  form* 
Beside  thee,  and  its  shadow  proudly  flings 
Mid-way  into  the  waters,  hath  a  claim 
Which  summons  to  remembrance  the  deep  tale 
That  oft  beguiled  the  hours  gone  by,  and  fill'd 
My  mind  with  images  of  pleasing  dread, 
Oft  afterwards  recall'd,  and  eagerly 
Recounted  in  the  ear  of  that  sweet  child 
I  loved  with  tenderness,  but  bow'd  in  grief 
Beside  his  early  grave.      The  rising  mound,** 
With  fosse  encircled,  that  doth  distance  keep 
More  humble  from  thy  border,  tells  of  deeds 
Of  patriot  struggle  and  of  pirate  strife, — 
Conflicts  of  Alfred  and  the  savage  Dane, — 


*  "  The  lonely  tower," — Torksey  Castle,  an  old  Residence  of  the 
Talbots,  seven  miles  from  Gainsburgh. 

**  "The  rising  mound  with  fosse  encircled," — the  Danish  camp 
and  entrenchments,  called  Castle  Hills,  half  a  mile  from  Gainsburgh, 
supposed  to  be  the  encampment  of  Sweyn,  the  father  of  Canute  the 
Great. 


POEMS.  95 

So  said  my  fathers,  and  the  story  flush'd 
The  kindred  blood  within  me  till  I  wept, 
And  mourn'd  in  agony  their  bloody  fate. 
The  pavement,  founded  'neath  thy  whelming 

flood/ 
Raised  in  me  wonder ;  and  when  first  I  learnt 
To  name  imperial  Rome,  before  mine  eye 
Advanced  her  eagled  legions  to  thy  tide 
In  sullen  greatness,  and  the  flood-bed  path 
Strode  o'er, — their  heads,  all  helmeted,  just  seen 
In  middle  of  the  stream. 

The  glittering  hopes, 
Which  beckon'd  with  delusive  hand  my  youth, 
Are  fled,  and  with  increase  of  years  hath  come 
Sedate  and  sober  care ;   but  not  the  less 
I  look  on  thee  enamour'd,  lovely  Trent.' 
And  ponder  o'er  the  records  of  thy  stream. 


*  "  The  pavement,  founded  'neath  thy  whelming  flood," — the 
Roman  pavement  across  the  bed  of  the  River  Trent,  seen  at  low  water,  at 
Littlebro',  four  miles  from  Gainsburgh,  the  Agelocum  of  the  Romans. 


THE  END. 


LIST   OF   SUBSCRIBERS. 


Copies. 

Ayre,  —  Esq.  M.  D.  Hull,     ...             ...             ...  2 

Alexander,  Mrs.  Doncaster,       ...              ...              ...  1 

Andrews,  Rev.  G.  R.  Grantham,              ...              ...  1 

Arnold,  Mr.  Whissendine,         ...              ...              ...  1 

Brownlow,  Earl,  Belton  House,            ...             ...  4 

Bathyany,  Count,  Melton  Mowbray,        ...              ...  4 

Barnard,  Right  Hon.  Sir  A.  Bart.  Equery  to  his  Majesty,  4 

Burnaby,  Col.  Rotherby  Hall,  Leicestershire,         ...  1 

Burnaby,  Rev.  —  Plunger,       ...              ...              ...  2 

Bright,  Rev.  J.  Piekwell  Parsonage,       ...              ...  I 

Bland,  Dr.  Grantham,              ...              ...              ..-,  2 

Bourne,  Mrs.  ditto,                    ...              ...              ...  2 

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Bertram,  Miss  F.  ditto,  ...  ...  ...         2 

Bertram,  Mr.  Charles,  London,  ...  ...  l 

Bainbridge,  —  Esq.  London  and  Melton,  ...         2 

Burton,  Captain,  Asfbrdby,       ...  ... 

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Brown,  Mr.  Robert,         ditto, 

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Burrows,  Mrs.  Plunger, 

Bishop,  Mr.  J.'T.  Melton  Mowbray,       ...  ... 

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Copley,  Mrs.  Brocklesby  House,               ...  ...  4 

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Clapham,  Mr.             ...              ...              ...  ...  1 

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Callow,  Mr.  Charles,  London,  ...              ...  ...  2 

Clark,  Mr.  F.               ditto,        ...              ...  ...  1 

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Coward,  Mr.  Surgeon,  Great  Grimsby, 

Charlton,  Miss,  Lincoln, 

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A  Friend,  Great  Grimsby, 


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and  Melton  Mowbray, 
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Elmhirst,  Mrs.  Scawby  Hall, 

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Gardiner,  the  Right  Hon.  Lord,  Court  Garden, 
Bucks,  and  Melton  Mowbray, 

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Gilmore,  W.  L.  Esq.  Scotland,  and  ditto, 

Gregory  Williams,  Esq.  Harleston  Hall, 

Green,  Valentine,  Esq.  Rolleston  Hall,  Leicestershire, 

Guille,  James,  Esq.  Isle  of  Guernsey, 

Gillet,  Rev.  —  Waltham, 

Gething,  Mr.  Grantham,  ...  .., 

Glover,  Rev.  T.  D.  M.A.  Binbrook,       ... 

Guy,  Mrs.  Plunger, 

Garner,  Mr.  Grantham,  ...  ...  ... 

Groves,  Mr.  Twyford, 

Goter,  Mr.  London, 


opies. 


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Harlopp,  Rev.  Evans,  Harby,  ...  ...  2 

Harneis,  Theophilus,  Esq.  Howerby,       ...  ...  1 

Harneis,   Theophilus,    Esq.  Thorgonby    Hall,   Lin- 
colnshire,           ...              •••              ...              •••  1 
Harneis,  Mrs.              ditto             ditto                  ditto  1 
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Ilctt,  J.  Esq.  Brigg,  Lincolnshire,  ...  ...  1 


SUBSCRIBERS. 


Copies. 


Halifax,  Rev.  J.  Melton  Mowbray, 

Hiklebrand,  Rev.  —  Saxby, 

Heycock,  Rev.  C.  Ouston,        ... 

Hodgson,  Mr.  Cbarlston,  Yorkshire, 

Hodgson,  Miss,  ditto, 

Holt,  Miss,  Grantham, 

Hopkinson,  Rev.  —  Market  Overton, 

Hoe,  Rev.  Thomas,  Long  Clowson, 

Healy,  Mr.  W.  Edmondthorpe, 

Healy,  Mr.  C.  Melton, 

Harrisson,  Mr.  Garthorpe, 

Hives,  Mr.  Tim.  Mount  Sorrel, 

Hinson,  Mr.  Walton,  ... 

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Horsfall,  Mr.  Hill,         ditto         ditto, 

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Horsfall,  Mr.  Thomas,    ditto         ditto, 

Humphrey,  Mr.  Kirton-in-Lindsey, 

Hunter,  Captain, 

Hardy,  Mr.  Stockdale,  Leicestershire, 

Hickman,  Mr.  Walton, 

Hardy,  Mr.  jun.  Witham, 

Higginson,  Mr.  Leicester, 


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Ingilby,  Sir  Wm,  Bart.  Ripley  Castle,  Yorkshire, 


SUBSCRIBERS. 

Copies. 

Inett,  Mrs.  Melton  Mowbray,  ...              ...  ...  1 

Inett,  Mr.  Eye,  Kettleby,         ...             ...  ...  1 

Johnston,  Sir  Fred.  Bart.  Melton  Mowbray,  ...  4 

Johnson,  Mr.  R.  Saddington  Hall,  Leicestershire,  1 

Johnson,  Mr.  W.             ditto                  ditto  ...  1 

Johnson,  R.  Esq.  Great  Grimsby,  Lincolnshire,  ...  1 

Jackson,  Mr.  Whissemline,        ...               ...  •••  J 

Jenkins,  Mr.  Atcham,  Grange,  Salop,      ...               ...  2 

Jones,  Mr.  Louth,  Lincolnshire,                ...                ...  1 

Kinnaihd,    Lord,    Rossie    Priory,    Perthshire,  and 

Melton  Mowbray,              ...              ...  ...  4 

Kay,  Sir  John,  Bart.                   ...               ...  ...  2 

King,  Mr.  Melton  Mowbray,    .,.              ...  ...  1 

Kewney,  Mr.  Grantham,           ...               ...  ...  1 

Kenyon,  Mr.  Manchester,         ...               ...  ...  1 

Keal,  Mr.  and  Friends,  Melton  Mowbray,  ...  7 

Lonsdale,  the  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of,  Cottesmore, 

Rutland,             ...              ...              ...  ...  6 

Lowther,  the  Hon.  Col.            ...              ...  ...  2 

Lloyd,  —  Esq.           ...              ...              ...  ...  1 

Lowry,  T.  Esq.  Syston,  near  Grantham,  ...  1 

Latham,  Mr.  Melton  Mowbray,                ...  ...  2 

Latham,  Mr.  William,  ditto,                     ...              ...  2 

Little,  Mr.  Blybro',  Lincolnshire,             ...  ...  1 

Lawrence,  Mr.  T.  Grantham,  ...             ...             ...  1 


SUBSCRIBERS. 


Copies. 


Lilleyman,  Mr.  Manchester, 
Leigh,  Mr.  ditto, 

Lee,  Mr.  Grantham, 
Lee,  Miss,  Kirton-in-Lindsey, 
Luard,  Major,  Blybro'  Hall, 


2 
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Manners,    the  Right  Bon.  Lord    Robert,    Belvoir 
Castle,  Leicestershire,        ...  ... 

Manners,  Lord  Charles  Somerset,         ditto         ditto, 
Macdonald,    the    Right   Hon.   Lord,    Scotland,    and 

Melton  Mowbray, 
Matoushevitz,  His  Excellency,  Count,  Russian  Am- 
bassador Extraordinary,  Melton  Mowbray 
Musgrave,  Sir  James,  Bart.  Barnesby  Park,  Glou- 
cestershire, and  Melton  Mowbray,    ... 
Montgomery,  R.  Esq.  Sheffield, 
Majoribanks,  —  Esq.  London,  and  Melton, 
Marriss,  H.  Esq.  Belgic  Consul,  Hull,    ... 
A  Friend,  Hull, 

Maxwell,  —  Esq.  London,  and  Melton  Mowbray, 
Mahre,  Valentine,  Esq.  Ireland,  and  ditto,  ... 

Moore,  J.  Esq.  London,  and  ditto, 

Manners,  Roger,  Esq.  Goadby  Hall,  Leicestershire, 
Manners,  Rev.  E.  Goadby  Marwood,         ditto,     ... 
Manners,  Mr.  Greentham,        ...  ... 

Marriott,  Mr.  Thorpe  Arnold, 

Marriott,  Mrs.         ditto,  ...  ...  .. 

Marriott,  Mr.  Long  Clawson,  ...  ...  ... 

c 


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SUBSCRIBERS, 


Copies. 


Marriott,  Mr.  Hayes,  Long  Clawson, 

Marriott,  Mr.  Kibvvorth  Harcourt,  ... 

Marriott,  Mrs.  N.  M.       ditto, 

Marriott,  Miss,  Kibworth  Beauchamp,  Leicestershire, 

Marriott,  Miss  M.         ditto  ditto, 

Marriott,  Miss  A.  ditto  ditto, 

Marriott,  Mr.  J.  T.    Thorpe  Arnold,  Leicestershire, 

Marriott,  Mr.  G.  ditto  ditto,  ... 

Marriott,  Mr.  W.  G.  Manchester, 

Marriott,  Hayes,  Lieut. 

Marriott,  Miss  Sarah,  Thorpe  Arnold,  Leicestershire, 

Marriott,  Mr.  Beeby, 

Marriott,  Mr.  J.  Crop  well, 

Morpott,  Mr.  Kibworth  Beauchamp,  Leicestershire, 


Morpott,  Miss,  ditto 

Morpott,  Mr.  Lutterworth,      ... 
Morpott,  Mrs.  Langton  Grange, 
Miller,  Mr.  Leicester, 
Mackinnon,  Mr.  Manchester,  ... 
Marris,  Mr.  Croxby, 
Mann,  Mr.  Wra.  Wymondham, 


ditto, 


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Norman,  Lady  Elizabeth,  Melton  Mowbray, 
Noel,  Sir  Gerard,  Bart.  Exton  Park, 
Norton,  Fletcher,  Esq.  Elton  Hall,  Notts. 
Nicholson,  J.  Esq.  Brigg,         ... 
Nixon,  Captain,  Melton, 
Neville,  Rev.  —  Cottesmore,   ... 


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SUBSCRIBER?. 


Neale,  Mr.  Melton  Mowbray,  ... 

Neale,  Mr.  Grantham, 

Newbatt,  Mr.  Belvoir, 

Neale,  Mrs.  Melton  Mowbray, 

Newton,  Mr.  Saxby, 

Nicholson,  Mr.  John,  Swallow  Vale, 

Nainby,  Mrs.  Barnoldby-le-Beck, 


Copies, 
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1 

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Osbaldeston,  George,  Esq.  Ebberton  Lodge,  Yorks, 
Ord,  Rev.  James,  Langton  Hall,  Leicestershire,     ... 
Ousby,  Rev.  R.  Kirton-in-Lindsey,  Lincolnshire,  ... 
Outram,  Rev.  J.  P.  Redmile,  Leicestershire, 
Oldacres,  Mr.  Leicester,  ... 


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Parker,  Captain,  Melton  Mowbray, 

Potchett,  Rev.  —  Grantham,    ... 

Park,  Mr.  Melton  Mowbray,   ... 

Parnell,  Miss,  Doncaster, 

Palmer,  Mr.  Surgeon,  Kirton-in-Lindsey, 

Palmer,  Mr.  Charles,  London, 

Pippen,  Miss,  Bowden, 

Phillips,  Mr.  Leicester, 

Parsons,  Mr.     ditto, 

Pickford,  Rev.  —  Coston  Rectory, 

Pridie,  Mr.  Melton, 

Potter,  Mrs.  the  Mount,  York, 

Perkins,  Mr.  Laughton,  Leicestershire,   .. 

Finder,  Mr.  Barrowby, 


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SUBSCRIBERS. 


Copies. 
Rutland,  his  Grace  the  Duke  of,  Bel  voir  Castle, 

Leicestershire,    ...               ...  ...  ...          6 

Roheby,  Lord,  Monk's  Horton,  Kent,  and  Melton 

Mowbray,  Leicestershire,  ...  ...         4 

Richardson,  R.  Esq.  Surgeon,  High  Harrowgate,  2 

Roadley,  Mrs.  Searby,               ...  ...  ... 

Roaclley,  Miss,  ditto, 

Robinson,  Mr.  London,              ...  ...  ... 

Robinson,  Mr.  Thomas,  ditto,  ...  ...  ... 

Richards,  Mr.  Kagdab, 

Richards,  Mr.  jun.  ditto,            ...  ... 

Reeve,  Mr  William,  VVansford,  ...  ...          2 

Robson,  Mr.  Newport  Pagnell,  ...  ...          1 

Robson,  —  Esq.  Relgrave,  Leicestershire,  ...  2 


Stanley,  W.  M.  Esq.  Keaton  Mouse,  Cheshire,  and 

Melton  Mowbray, 
Stevens,  Lyne,  Esq.  London,  and  ditto,  ... 
Smith,  Ascough,  Esq.  Leesthorpe  Hall,  Leicesters. 


•awyer,  Rev.  —  Old  Dalby  Hall, 


Simpson,  Miss,  Freeby, 

Sergeant,  Miss,  London, 

Smith,  Rev.  —  Great  Coates,  Lincolnshire, 

Swan,  Mrs.  John,  Nottingham, 

Swan,  Mr.  sen.  ditto, 

A  Friend,  ditto, 

Stevenson,  Mrs.         ditto, 

Stevenson,  Mr.  J.  S.  ... 


ditto, 
ditto, 


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SUBSCRIBERS. 

Stark,  Mr.  Gainsburgh, 

Stowe,  Mr.  Wailham,  Leicestershire, 

Sykes,  Mr.  Tilton,  ditto, 

Sharpe,  Mr.  Melton,  ditto, 

Smith,  Mr.  Manchester, 

Sharrard,  Mr.  Knollington, 

Stokes,  Mr.  Hose,      ... 

Simes,  Mr.  Yorkshire, 

Simpson,  Mr.  T,  Melton  Mowbray, 

Sutton,  Mr.  H.  C.  Leicester,    ... 


Copies. 


Thynne,  Lord  Edward,  Richmond  Terrace, 

don,  and  Melton  Mowbray, 
Thorold,  Lady,  Syston  Park,  Lincolnshire, 
Turner,  C.  Esq.  Stoke  Hall,  Leicestershire, 
Turner,  —  Esq.  M.  D.  Grantham,  ... 

Turner,  Mr.  R.  ditto, 

Turner,  Mr. 

Townsend,  Mrs.  Manchester,  ... 
Townsend,  Mrs.  Thos.  ditto,  ... 
Townsend,  Miss,  ditto,    ... 

A  Friend,  ditto,     ... 

Tomlin,  Mr.  Josh.  Ligh  Lodge,  Rutland, 
Tuxford,  Mr.  Melton, 
Tupman,  Mr.  Somerby, 
Taylor,  Mr.  James,  Manchester, 
Tyler,  Mr.  Denton,  ... 
Thornton,  Miss,  and  Friends,  ... 

d 


Lon- 


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SUBSCRIBERS. 


Tilbury,  Mr.  John,  jun.  London, 
Thorpe,  Mr. 


Copies. 
2 


Underwood,  Mrs.  Melton  Mowbray,     ... 


Worcester,    the    Right.    Hon.    the    Marquis    of, 
Melton  Mowbray,  ...  ...  ... 

Wilton,   the   Right    Hon.    the    Earl   of,    Heaton 
Park,  Lancashire,  and  Melton  Mowbray,        ... 
Wilton,  Countess  of,      ditto  ditto  ditto, 

Willoughby,  Right  Hon.  Lord  D'Eresby, 
Welby,  Sir  William,  Bart,  Denton  Hall,  Lincolns. 
Welby,  G.  E.  Esq.    ... 

White,  J.  Esq.  Derbyshire,  and  Melton  Mowbray, 
Wharton,  —  Esq.  London,  and  ditto, 

Wayland,  Rev.  D.  S.  Vicar  of  Kirton-in-Lindsey, 
Woodcock,  Mrs.  and  Friends,  Syston,  Leicestershire, 
Wilmot,  W.  Esq.  Pickwell,  ditto, 

Ward,  Mr.  Langton  Grange,  ditto, 

Ward,  Mrs.  ditto  ditto, 

Walker,  Miss,  Oakwell  House,  Yorkshire, 
WTing,  Mr.  Vincent,  jun.  Melton  Mowbray, 
Wing,  Mr.  Thomas  Nurton,     ditto, 
Wing,  Miss,  ditto, 

Whitchurch,  Mr.  ditto, 

Warner,  Mr.  W.  Wolverhampton, 
Warner,  Mr.  R.         ditto, 
Warner,  Mr.  Manchester,         ...  ... 


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SUBSCRIBERS. 


Warner,  Mr.  Leicester, 
Wyles,  Mr.  Laurence,  Greentham, 
Wright,  Mr.  Shoby,  ... 
Wilkins,  Mr.  Grantham, 
Walkington,  Mr.  ditto, 
WTard,  Mr.  T.  Melton, 
Walker,  Miss,  Yorkshire, 
Warton,  Jesse,  Esq.   ... 
Wyles,  Mr.  Josh.  Grantham, 


Copies. 


Yarborough,  the  Right  Hon.  Lord,  Brocklesby 
House,  Lincolnshire,  and  Appeldurcome,  Isle 
of  Wight, 

Young,  Mr.  ...  ...  ...  ... 


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t^t  Several  Names  omitted  in  this  List  were  too  late  for  insertion. 


Gainsburgh,  Printed  by  Adam  Stark. 


ERRATA. 

Page  2ti,  line  3  from  bottom,  for  love,  read  lore. 

—  27,  for  Stanzas  on  Revisiting  my  Home,  read,  To  a  Friend  on  Revisiting  the  Home 

of  my  early  youth. 

—  31,  line  7  from  top,  for  chain,  read  charm. 

—  32,  last  line,  for  search' d,  read  sought. 

—  54,  line  2  from  top,  for  ntadest,  read  mad'st. 


•    ' 


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